Not a Pet
by sherlockian4evr
Summary: Sherlock and John face down a would be killer. He makes the mistake of calling John Sherlock's pet.


John and Sherlock were approaching a standalone home. The doctor had no idea why. "Would it kill you to tell me what we're doing here?" John wasn't angry, not really, but he was certainly annoyed. "I thought you said that Anne's bracelet never left the shop. Why aren't we there?"

Sherlock grinned back at the doctor who was following a couple of steps behind. "To stop the killer, of course."

Now fuming, John started to shout at the detective but reigned himself in. "What killer? What are you talking about? I don't even have my gun."

He didn't get an answer to his questions. Instead he got more facts. "I warned her off coming home. Davison should be waiting for her when we arrive, most likely in her bedroom."

John mumbled under his breath. Bounding up the steps to the home, Sherlock reached out and unceremoniously opened the unlocked door. He plunged into the darkened interior without a pause. The doctor followed more cautiously while mentally going down a list of every curse word that he knew.

"Sherlock." It came out as a cautionary whisper but, of course, it did no good. This time the words slipped past his lips. "Bloody buggering fuck."

Sherlock, the idiot, had disappeared. The thump of a body and the click of a gun being cocked stopped John cold, but only for a moment. He looked around and grasped a heavy bit of statuary from a nearby shelf then moved to stand just outside the bedroom door.

John could see both Sherlock and Davison. Davison was a large man and he was holding a gun in the general direction of the detective who was laying on the floor. Sherlock had obviously been hit on the head with the gun, but he was moving so John breathed a sigh of relief.

Davison was clearly unused to handling guns. On the one hand that made him dangerous, he could easily fire the weapon without meaning to. On the other, it made him careless and his hands were shaking. The army doctor waited until the gun barrel drifted away from Sherlock and made his move.

John burst into the room and struck at Davison's head the statuary while driving downward on the man's gun arm. A bullet flew harmlessly across the room. The two men broke apart and only the fact that Davison managed to aim the gun at Sherlock halted the brief scuffle.

"You. Stand over there." The big man gestured for Sherlock to move to the corner of the room the furthest away from the door. The detective wasted no time in complying. "And you." Now he was waving at John with his free hand, Davison wanted him to come near. Ever mindful of the gun barrel pointed at the detective, John did as he was ordered.

As the army doctor expected, the man wrapped an arm around his neck. John could have easily broken free if it weren't for the gun aimed at Sherlock. He wouldn't do anything that could jeopardize the life of the man he loved.

Davison started talking and John only half listened. It was the typical back and forth that criminals always seemed to engage in with the detective. The idiots always seemed to think they could out talk Sherlock. John knew from vast experience that that was quite impossible.

Then Davison said it and John's blood boiled. "Who is this? Your pet?"

The army doctor grit his teeth and growled out his displeasure. "I am not his pet." John wondered what it was about his relationship with Sherlock that has every lowlife and maniacal killer they came across asked the same fucking question. He decided he didn't care, he had simply had enough.

More verbal jousting had taken place while John fumed. "If you harm him, I'll rip your throat out with my bare hands." Sherlock meant his threat and John knew it. He also knew what would inevitably come next and he was right.

"So he does mean something to you." Davison took a step towards the door pulling the army doctor along with him. "I'll be sure to take care of your pet."

"Stop." It was an order and Davison actually halted. "The police are on their way. I phoned before we arrived. You might as well let him go and surrender now." Sherlock was holding Davison's gaze and nothing in his manner indicated that he was bluffing.

The big man snarled in response. "I don't think so. That's not how you work. I'm taking you little pet..."

"I am not his pet!" John shouted it out loud. He was really getting tired of this routine.

At that precise moment, Lestrade, Donovan, and several backup officers burst into the room. Davison's gun arm wavered and John took his chance. He stomped down hard on Davison's foot and his arms flew back. "I am not." The big man was flipped over the army doctor's shoulder and landed with an audible grunt. "His fucking." John's foot came down hard on man's gun hand and the crunch of small bones could be heard. "Pet." The army doctor had Davison's gun pointed at the would-be killer. John bent his head to the side and gave a little shrug of satisfaction.

Donovan looked stunned, as did Lestrade, though he had a small smile on his face. Sherlock took the few steps to John's side.

The detective appeared mostly impassive but his trademark half smile had crept onto his face. "I don't imagine this one will call you my pet again." Sherlock lost the battle to appear impassive and a full smile spread across his face.

John and Sherlock didn't care that it was wildly inappropriate or that they were being watched by the Yarders, not at all. They started giggling madly.

Lestrade gestured to Donovan to take Davison into custody then strode over to the two giggling men. "Oi! You two."

They tried to reign in their laughter to no avail.

The DI watched as Davison was led from the room, the other Yarders trailing in his wake. He looked back to the duo, concentrating his focus on John. "Remind me not to piss you off." A heartbeat passed. "Pet."


End file.
